Jill Shalvis - The Rancher's Surrender

"Don't worry, Maddie," he called back over his shoulder. "She's crazy about me."

He found her in bed. She was a burrower, he thought. Not even an inch of her showed from beneath her covers. Just her thick auburn hair. The hair he'd thought to see spread across his pillow this morning.

God, just looking at her made his heart ache, and that really ticked him off. She should be in his bed, under his covers, burrowed up against him .

Shutting and locking her bedroom door behind him, he moved to the bed, intending to rudely rip the covers off and demand she get up and work.

So they could both suffer.

Instead, he found himself sinking to the mattress and dipping a hand beneath the covers, just to touch her. To feel her warm, soft, giving body, just once more.

He found her body, all right, and smooth, bare skin.

Beneath the quilt she was completely nude.

Groaning, he leaned over her, his mouth hovering close to her ear. "Get up, Zoe. There's work to do." In contrast to his rough words, his hand smoothed down over her shoulder, down her side to her hip, squeezing gently.

Zoe made a soft noise and turned onto her back. Which put his hand low on her belly. He glanced at her face, but she was still sleeping deeply, with her body warm and silky beneath his fingers. God. He inched down until his palm was filled with her and found her damp. He groaned again, sucking gently on her ear.

"Ty…" she mumbled. "Don't go."

"I won't," he said, thinking she'd woken.

But she hadn't, she was still out. "Don't desert me, too," she murmured.

In that moment, his heart shattered. So much for his resolve to stay away from her. "I won't, Zoe… I promise."

A promise. Oh Lord, he was in deep now.

Another sigh escaped her, a deeper one, and her legs opened as she pressed herself into his hand.

It was too much. He was just a man. A very weak, red-blooded man who was about ready to explode from just touching her. "Zoe," he whispered, half hoping she'd wake up and shove him away.

Instead she arched up, and he was a goner. Sliding one finger into her, he leaned closer and kissed her mouth, his tongue plunging in tune to his moving hand.

Making soft mewling noises that nearly undid him, Zoe gripped him tight, writhing against him, rocking her hips, gasping, melting… then shuddering, shuddering, shuddering.

Hot and dying, Ty kept on touching her until she quieted, thinking he hadn't felt so out of control without being touched himself since he'd been a teenager.

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him, her breathing harsh and uneven.

It took a moment for those eyes to clear completely, but when they did, she shot straight up, clutching the blanket to herself. Mute, she stared at him, blinking uncertainly.

He wondered if she was hoping she'd dreamed the entire thing and he was just hot enough, just miserable enough to not be kind. "I don't suppose you'd think it was my turn now."

Her eyes closed. Her face went beet-red. And he felt marginally better, but his jeans were still far too tight.

Zoe's hands went up to her head. "I think my head is going to fall off."

Not exactly the romantic words he'd hoped for. But since her face had gone from red to green, he believed her.

She dropped her hands and looked at him. "I… I thought maybe I was dreaming…?"

Slowly he shook his head. "Not that last part, no."

She nodded, and her eyes fell to his lap and his very obvious arousal, then widened. Visibly, she swallowed. "Ty-"

"Get up, Zoe." His words were harsher than he'd intended as he rose, but dammit, he was frustrated beyond hell.

He tossed her a pair of jeans he found on the floor. "I'll be outside waiting. Hurry."

"I'll get there when I get there."

Seemed Sleeping Beauty had fully awoken and had sharpened her tongue. "Get there fast," he said calmly, meeting her gaze steadily. "Or I'll come back for you."

He shut her door behind him, grinning when he heard something hit the other side of the door, right about head-level.

It hit with the solid thunk of a brand-new boot.

Zoe showed up relatively quickly, which surprised Ty. He thought she might have stayed back dwelling on things, stalling, doing whatever it was a woman did while she pouted.

But she came outside in less than half an hour, not a sulk in sight. The sun lit her hair like fire as she walked toward him, looking more beautiful than any heartbreaker had a right to look. Her slim body was encased in jeans and yet another T-shirt, void of whipped cream. She was wearing her new boots and her gloves. She looked comfortable, confident and well suited for the beautiful but harsh environment of ranching.

Pride flowed through him at her versatility. At her resilience.

She came close, and he saw that her eyes were red.

Dammit. "You've been crying," he accused, tossing down his gloves and moving toward her with guilt and need and a million other things. "Not about what happened in your bed-"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Zoe-"

She lifted her chin but didn't quite meet his gaze. "Back off, Ty. This is work. Where do we start?" She saw the cans of paint. "At the cottages?"

He lifted her chin in his cupped hand. "Tell me why you were crying."

Not surprisingly, she slapped his hand away. "It's nothing." When she whirled away from him, he saw the folded piece of paper sticking out her back pocket, and not knowing why, he grabbed it.

She went wild, leaping at him, tackling him down to the hard ground-which happened to be wet, dammit-clawing and reaching to get the paper he perversely held just out of reach.

"Gee, I guess it has something to do with this," he drawled from flat on his back. She was straddling him, leaning over his body so that her breasts just grazed his chest. Rather than groan and crush her to him, which he nearly did on instinct, he grinned up into her face. "You sure like to be on top."

"Give it back."

At her pale, drawn, panicked expression he lost all ability to tease her. Holding her firmly to him, he sat up and handed back the folded paper.

Startled at his compliance, she took it. Her legs were around his hips, her bottom snugged to his crotch. An erotically shattering position, and yet it was suddenly so much more than that. Gently he put his hands to her hips, lightly squeezing. "What is it, Slim? Can't you tell me?"

Her eyes filled but the tears didn't spill. She hesitated, then shoved the letter at him. Staring at her, he slowly took it, opened it, then scanned the letter.

It was a short note from Cade, and it had been faxed to the new machine they'd bought to make guest reservations easier.

Dear Zoe,

So sorry, I know all this waiting and wondering is difficult for you. I have some news, small as it is. Your mother was indeed allowed to come and get you for visitation as you thought. Why she never did is a mystery to all involved. She never called, as you'd suspected. And she never wrote. In fact, from the day you were dropped off, she never checked in. Not once.

I'll keep searching for her, Zoe, and I know I'll find something soon.

Your friend, Cade.

Ty read the words, his throat tightening on each word. Here it was in black and white for Zoe to see and deal with for the first time.

She'd indeed been orphaned, purposely and cruelly. And apparently, without the least bit of regret.

"Zoe, I'm sorry-"

She jerked off of him and to her feet. Crossing her arms over herself, she shrugged, refusing to look at him. "Don't be."

"But I am-"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, of course it does-"

"I already knew all that stuff, anyway. She dumped me. No big deal."

If he touched her, she was going to break. Normally he'd be running-hell, he'd be flying -as far from a crying female as he could get. His mother had used tears a lot; he'd long ago become immune to such things.